The Tears of Generations: The Burdens of History (Mishpatim)
loving Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir — and Yarden Bibas
There is so much to say. So much we must hold. But before anything else, friends, let us pray.
It has just been confirmed that this Thursday, four of our loved ones will be released from captivity. It appears clear that Shiri Bibas and her two young sons, Kfir and Ariel, who were brutally stolen from their homes on October 7, 2023, by Hamas terrorists, will finally be returned to us — no longer alive, but home. And please, God, six living hostages, the final ones in this phase of the ceasefire, will be returned to us this Shabbat.
So before we speak of anything else, let us pray.
Let us pray that these words hold true, that six living beloveds will be embraced once more.
Let us pray for the families of those who will not return alive, for whom grief will never be enough.
Let us pray for the families who still do not know. Who are still waiting. Who are still caught in the unbearable abyss of uncertainty.
Let us pray for our people, because there are 73 still held today — living and dead. We want them home. We need them home. We demand they be brought home.
Join me, friends, in offering our hearts. To the families, to the loved ones, to all those bearing the weight of this unthinkable moment. And take care of yourselves. This is not an easy time.
This week, in Parshat Mishpatim, we read of law. A dense, intricate, often overwhelming collection of laws. And yet, just as the details settle into place, the Torah disrupts. A moment of covenant. A moment of promise. A moment of blood.
Moses reads the Book of the Covenant aloud. The people respond:
“Na’aseh v’nishma. / We will do, and we will understand. (Ex. 24:7)”
We commit first, understanding follows. Because covenant is not about convenience. It is not about waiting for all the pieces to fall into place. It is about being in it, being part of it, belonging to it — before we even know what it will demand of us.
This is true of our Torah. This is true of our people. This is true of us.
And then, something even stranger: Moses takes the blood of the sacrifices and throws it upon the people, declaring:
“This is the blood of the covenant that God has established with you. (Ex. 24:8)”
What does it mean to be covered in covenant? To be physically marked by our promise? To be inseparable from it, bound by it, living it with our very bodies?
It means that we are part of something eternal. That our ancestors stood at Sinai, and we stand there with them. That our descendants will one day, please God, look back, and we will be part of their inheritance. That we did not ask for this, not in this moment, not in this way — but we are here. And we must show up.
To be in covenant means to bear the burden of history and the responsibility of the future. It means that our tears are the tears of generations, and our strength is drawn from the ones who came before. It means that when we cry out for the return of our captives, we are speaking the language of eternity. It means that when we pray for the healing of our people, we are holding onto something that cannot be broken.
So let us send our hearts to the east.
Pray for those who will begin their healing this week.
Pray for Am Yisrael, for the grief yet to come, for the strength to bear it.
Pray for yourselves, for resilience, for healing, for the capacity to hold so much pain and still find love.
We have work ahead. It is sacred. It is hard. But we are in this together. And we are not alone.
Am Yisrael Chai!
